


Winner, Winner!

by dettiot



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 10:39:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19424296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dettiot/pseuds/dettiot
Summary: Chuck and Sarah participate in a charity auction to learn more about where his mom might be. Set betweenChuck vs. the AnniversaryandChuck vs. the Suitcase.





	Winner, Winner!

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the “Bidding War” prompt on my fluffbingo card on Tumblr. Hope you enjoy this visit from fandoms past!

Standing in a line of tuxedo-ed bad guys, Chuck Bartowski felt distinctly out of place. Not just because he was really out of practice at the whole spy gig, but because . . . well, even with all the working out he had been doing, and the shorter haircut that had removed most of his curls, he stuck out like a sore thumb around here. 

The guy in front of him could flex his neck like it was his bicep. How was that even possible? The guy in front of that guy had loudly told everyone his suits were custom made by “Mr. Versace” because “off the rack, never woulda fit, ya know.” Then he twisted into a bodybuilding pose and everyone nodded in silent agreement that no, an off the rack tuxedo would have never fit that guy. 

Resisting the urge to tug at his tie, Chuck reminded himself Sarah was out in the audience, so at least he would receive one bid. But more than just preventing him from being embarrassed at this bachelor auction for charity, the bid would be the signal to their contact. And once they had gotten the intel from the anonymous yet vetted informant, they would be one step closer to finding his mom. 

It wasn’t ideal, being forced back into working for the CIA, lying to Ellie, and being at Beckman’s beck and call, but . . . he was working with Sarah and Casey again, and he was going to make it up to Ellie--all the lying, all the secrets--by bringing their mother home. Hopefully in time to meet her grandchild. 

Chuck was distracted from how crazy-amazing it was, for his sister to be pregnant, by a round of enthusiastic clapping from the overly-thin, overly-Botoxed woman running this show. “All right, all right, bachelors!” she cried out in Russian-accented English. “It is time! Please follow me.” 

Squaring his shoulders and reminding himself that he belonged amongst this lineup of bodybuilder bachelors, Chuck filed out onto a stage with the rest of the men, the music loud and pounding as they entered the hotel ballroom for tonight’s charity bachelor auction.

It took him a moment to place the song that was playing, and then he wanted to laugh. Because Chuck never thought he would hear a Russian version of “It’s Raining Men.” 

Standing on the stage with the rest of Russia’s Next Top Henchman, Chuck clasped his hands behind his back and tried to look like the millionaire software developer he was supposed to be. He gave what he hoped was a charming smile to the women crowding the stage: women who were whooping and cheering and waving their bidding paddles. They were all very pretty, he had to admit. But he only had eyes for one woman. 

Sarah was hanging back a bit, playing the woman of mystery role tonight. In her skin-tight black dress, long cigarette holder, and big dark glasses, she certainly looked the part, Chuck thought. And with the red wig she was wearing, he was getting serious Mary Jane Watson vibes from her. Perhaps at some point, they could do the upside-down Spider-man kiss? That would be so hot. 

He watched as she lowered her glasses and made very deliberate eye contact with him. 

“Time to put on the ol’ Bartowski-pretending-to-be-Carmichael charm,” he reminded himself silently, before giving her a smolder in return. 

Thanks to knowing a lot about Sarah Walker, Chuck caught how her lips twitched for a split-second. And he knew that meant she was doing all she could to shove down a giggle--not because he was laughable, but because they had so much fun being around each other. Instead of letting it out, Sarah stuck to her part. She slid her glasses back up and ambled towards the stage, fanning herself a little with her paddle, just as the auctioneer stepped up to the podium and began the auction. 

The first few bachelors prompted a flurry of bidding, the women eager to get their hands on their chosen partners for the evening. It did make Chuck wonder why these kind of charity auctions even existed. It all felt a little too pre-Civil War for his liking, although maybe it was more his sour grapes at knowing he wasn’t the kind of man anyone here was looking for. 

Chuck looked back at Sarah, seeing how she gave him a tiny little head nod, and he felt warmth go through his body at her silent support. Especially now that it was his turn.

“Gentleman number five: Ivan Ivanovich Ivanov, hereditary Count of Dragov and software millionaire. Come forward, sir, and allow all our lovely ladies to see you!” 

The auctioneer’s voice was overly jovial, like he knew there was no chance in hell Chuck would be bid upon, and Chuck did his best not to take it personally. Stepping towards the edge of the stage, he smiled and waved at the crowd, noticing how lackluster their applause was. 

“Count Ivanov enjoys sailing, fine dining, and the symphony in his free time. He is offering to take the lucky winner of his date on a Neva river cruise in his seventy-foot luxury yacht, with dinner personally cooked by top chef Dmitry Blinov!” 

That got a bit of a response, but honestly, Chuck wasn’t really noticing the other women right now. Not with how Sarah was slowly and sensually licking her lips as she looked at him. He could feel his ears going red and tried not to get distracted. 

“May I start the bidding at three hundred thousand rubles?” the auctioneer cried out, doing his best to whip the crowd into their previous frenzy. “Remember, ladies, it’s for charity!”

With a lazy yet elegant motion, Sarah lifted her paddle, numbered sixty-two. The auctioneer looked around the room, then sighed. “Anyone want to top this bid with three hundred and ten?” he asked, sounding as if he knew the answer to that question. 

Chuck knew Sarah’s paddle number was the signal to the informant, so he tried not to feel bad about only going for just under ten thousand US dollars, when the lowest-winning bid so far had been in the neighborhood of twenty thousand. But he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of self-doubt--something he had thought he had gotten past once Sarah had looked at him and said, “I want to quit the spy life and be with you.” 

The conversational buzz and auction pamphlet rustling grew louder as everyone prepared for this particular bachelor to be sold quickly, but then a soft, high-pitched voice called out, “Three hundred and fifty.” 

Chuck could see Sarah’s eyes widen, even behind her dark glasses. All heads in the room whipped around, towards a thin, dark-haired, big-eyed woman in a dress as pale as her skin. She held aloft her paddle and repeated, “Three hundred and fifty.” 

The words were barely out of her mouth before Sarah said, “Three hundred seventy-five.” She was attempting to sound bored, but Chuck could hear the ripple of anger underneath. 

The young woman stepped closer to the stage. “Four hundred,” she countered, giving Chuck a shy smile. 

He smiled back in dumbfounded amazement, because he just couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“Four hundred and twenty-five,” called out another woman, smirking slightly. 

There was an actual bidding war happening for _him_!

The third woman dropped out fairly quickly, leaving the bidding to Sarah and the dark-haired waif. As it kept going, and the auctioneer really got into it, Chuck leaned towards the man beside him. “Who is she?” he asked, pointing at the other woman.

The man snorted. “Some kind of smart guy, bro, if you don’t know Anna Krovopuskov.” At Chuck’s lack of reaction, the man shook his head. “Krovopuskovs are bodyguards. Name means ‘to shed blood’. They protect bigwigs, going back to Imperialist days. Made big bucks. And Anna is the last of her line.” 

“She’s a bodyguard?” Chuck asked in disbelief. “She looks more breakable than me.” 

“Appearances are deceiving, bro,” the man replied. “You’re up to seven hundred thousand, and the redhead looks mad enough to be dumber than you.” 

Turning his head, Chuck locked eyes with Sarah and couldn’t help agreeing with the man. Sarah’s jaw was clenched and her knuckles were white around the handle of her paddle. Her voice sounded clipped as she kept bidding against Anna. He tried to tell her with his eyes that she didn’t need to do this--it didn’t matter if she won the auction, because this was all about signaling their contact. 

He couldn’t deny that his self-doubt had vanished, though, thanks to the bidding war and how Sarah was fighting for him, but he could just imagine how Beckman would react if Sarah spent--he quickly calculated--thirty thousand dollars when it wasn’t necessary. 

“A million rubles!” Sarah snapped, prompting a hush to fall over the crowd, before their heads all turned to look towards Anna Krovopuskov.

“Two million,” she said, sounding serene but timid. 

Everyone knew the auction was over, even before Sarah’s shoulders slumped and she lowered her paddle. Because who would have thought the nerd would go for so much? 

As the auctioneer brought down his hammer to a round of applause, Chuck looked at Sarah and, taking a risk, mouthed “It’s okay.” Then, at the prompting of the auctioneer, Chuck stepped down from the stage and went over to Anna, taking her hand and doing his best to act as his cover dictacted. 

Chuck could see Sarah making her way over to the bar, where Casey was stationed in his usual bartender role, and hoped he wouldn’t tease her too much for losing control of the bidding. Together, Sarah and Casey could meet with the informant and get the intel--Chuck trusted them. They knew how important the search for his mother was. 

For now, though . . . he had a fake date to go on. 

XXX

Why did his first dates with spies go so badly? 

Although Anna wasn’t a spy, but the date, such as it was, did happen due to spy-related issues, and it was technically a first date, so . . . 

Gripping Anna’s hand, he tugged her along as they ran away from the smoking remains of the luxury yacht, half-sunk in the Neva River, wishing he had his tranq pistol. 

“I can’t believe you were our contact!” he said again, for perhaps the dozenth time. 

“Stop saying that,” Anna said through gritted teeth, shaking off Chuck’s hand and easily keeping up with him. 

Arms and legs pumping, they ran through the streets of St. Petersburg for a few minutes, before Chuck pulled up with a stitch in his side. “Oh--oh, okay, gotta up the cardio, I see,” he panted.

Anna stood beside him, her arms folded over her chest. “How are you related to Frost? It’s impossible.” 

Chuck straightened up quickly, feeling light-headed from both the side stitch and Anna’s words. “What? You--you know Frost?”

She sniffed. “Of course. Volkoff is my main supplier. I’ve known Frost for years. She . . . she’s wonderful.” Anna paused, then shrugged. “When I wiped out my family so I could take over the family business, Frost understood why I had to do it, why those small-minded misogynists forced my hand. She is like my mother--which means more than her just giving birth to you.” 

Chuck rubbed a hand against his side and tried to think. “How--how do you know Frost that--that she’s my . . . ?”

“Your mother?” Anna looked at him scornfully. “You don’t deserve her. I don’t know why she cares about you, but she sent me here to make contact with you, to pass along a message from her.”

“And . . . what’s the message?” Chuck asked slowly, staring at Anna’s hard face. 

With no warning, Anna’s fist flew at his face, popping him right in the nose. It sent Chuck reeling back, only for his legs to be kicked out from underneath him. 

Wheezing, Chuck coughed and looked up at Anna, who was leaning down towards him. “Frost says, stop looking for her. There’s no way you can win against Volkoff and you’re just gonna get hurt.” She gave him a scathing look. “I have to say, I agree with her.” 

“Low--low blow, Anna,” Chuck said, pushing himself up on his elbows. 

She shrugged again and straightened up, just as a Porsche pulled up to the curb. “My ride is here. You should listen to your mother.” 

And with that, Anna left him lying on the sidewalk, wondering if she was right. If he should listen to his mother. 

XXX

When he walked into the hotel room, limping a little, Sarah rushed at him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. Chuck held back his groan as she crushed his definitely-bruised ribs and hugged her back, relieved and happy to be with her again. 

“Chuck, Chuck, I’m so sorry, our contact never showed--we’ll just have to keep working to find your mom--” Sarah said in a rush, stroking the back of his neck. 

“Anna was our contact,” Chuck said, pulling back a bit from Sarah. At her frown, he explained, “The woman who won me in the auction?” 

Sarah’s jaw clenched. “So she changed the meet protocol without warning _and_ made sure to win you in the auction? I’m gonna kill her.” 

“Hey, hey, hey, no need to kill her,” Chuck said, rubbing her arms. “She gave me the info, it’s okay.” 

Her face relaxed, then her head tilted to the side. “It doesn’t seem like it was good news . . .”

“It wasn’t,” Chuck admitted. He took a breath. “The message was to stop looking for my mom. That I couldn’t match up with Volkoff and I would just get hurt.” 

“Chuck,” Sarah said softly, but he stepped back and out of her arms. 

“What if my mom is right?” Chuck asked, gazing at Sarah forlornly. “What if I did get hurt? I’m Ellie’s only family left and if something happened to me, if I didn’t manage to get my mom away from Volkoff, I would never forgive myself for hurting Ellie like that, more than I already have--”

“Chuck,” Sarah said again, breaking into his ramble and halting his spiral. “It’s quite possible your mom _had_ to send a message like that. She could have not been alone, she could have not trusted Anna, she might think it’s not you looking for her but one of her enemies.” 

Her words were sensible and logical, but Chuck wasn’t sure he was ready for logic right now. He looked down as he gave voice to the only thought he had. “What if she meant every word?” 

Sarah’s hands firmly cupped his face, bringing his eyes up to hers. “I don’t believe it. Because I bet your mom, when she heard that her son was looking for her, would only want him to find her.” 

It was crazy, but it was only the warmth of Sarah’s words, her soft yet calloused fingers holding his cheeks, and the intensity of her eyes made him realize how numb he had been feeling until she spoke. 

“Really?” he whispered. 

“Really,” Sarah said, leaning up and kissing him softly. 

Chuck kissed her back slowly, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. The kiss lasted forever and just a moment before Sarah broke it and smiled at him.

“We’ll take tonight to rest and regroup, and tomorrow, we’ll start again,” Sarah said. “I’ve got a few contacts I can work, and you can bet Casey is owed a few favors that he can call in.” 

“Are you sure? I mean, it’s my mom--” 

“Exactly,” Sarah said, interrupting him again. “It’s _your mom_ , Chuck. And both Casey and I would be dead a dozen times over without you. It’s the least we can do. Okay?” 

In that tone of voice, Chuck knew there was no arguing with Sarah. And really, he didn’t want to argue with her. He felt a welling of gratitude and love and happiness at having her in his life, at having her by his side in everything--not just the spy life, but in life in general. 

“I love you so much, Sarah,” he said, hugging her tightly. 

“I love you, too,” she said, rubbing his back. “It’s too bad Anna the Ghost didn’t know that.” 

“Baby, are you still mad over losing the auction?” Chuck asked, smiling a little. 

“Mm-hmm,” she said, starting to unbutton his shirt. “Very mad. Because it delayed this.” 

Sarah leaned in and kissed his neck, making Chuck whimper. “Oh. That--that’s too bad. Now I”m mad, too. Furious.” 

Pausing long enough to give him a saucy grin, Sarah kept pressing kisses to his skin.

“Enraged, in fact,” Chuck said as Sarah began pulling him over to the bed.

“Stop talking, Chuck,” she said as she gently pushed him down onto the bed. 

It was the second time tonight a woman had given him an order. But this time, Chuck was more than happy to comply with the order. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said as he pulled her down to kiss her. 

End.


End file.
